Chapter 26

It was eleven o'clock on the morning of the party. Having fulfilled their duty, Aramis and Porthos had left the throne room just as Louis had embraced his brother. It would have been a touching sight – indeed, Louis was quite overcome with emotion – but both men were afraid it would all end in tears; just whose tears, they weren't yet sure.

Athos stood patiently holding the horses, whilst talking quietly to Roger. Sometimes Aramis wondered what he talked to his horse about during those quiet moments when nobody else could hear. He asked no questions, but it was clear he was intent upon finding out what had taken place. Clearly becoming impatient, when the necessary information was not forthcoming, he stood with hands upon his hips and, sounding somewhat annoyed, and demanded:

'Well?' Aramis smiled, he had wondered how long it would take for the man to break. He winked at Porthos before replying.

'Gaston has just publicly apologised profusely for his wrong-doings, and pledged allegiance to his King!' He raised a brow and looked at the swordsman. Athos merely rolled his eyes.

'I am not surprised. I suppose the King believed it?' the swordsman asked.

Porthos shook his head sadly. 'Yeah, poor devil, tears in his eyes and everythin'. Fell for it completely. Actually, felt sorry for 'im.' The other two men nodded in agreement.

'Louis can be rather naive, 'Athos stated, looking as though even he felt sorry for the man.

'I just hope that for once Gaston will leave Paris without betrayin' his brother's trust. Louis doesn't exactly have too many friends; he deserves to be able to trust his own brother.' Porthos was mounting his horse as he spoke and did not notice the expression that passed over Athos' face but, as usual, Aramis missed nothing. He realised that it was not the moment to pose any questions, but he would store the information away for a later date. Brothers, there had to be a connection there somewhere; it was not the first time he had reacted to such a comment.

The three men cantered through the streets. Now they were home and their mission complete, the weariness began to settle in. Aramis and Porthos beamed as they rode under the arch of the garrison, always glad to have completed a successful mission in one piece. Athos, on the other hand, was not sure exactly how he felt. He, too, was happy to reach the garrison, but it also unnerved him. Since he had abandoned his manor, he had failed to make anywhere home, and was reluctant to make any new attachments. However, he realised that he was becoming too fond of this place and, in particular, the two men who had taken him under their wing.

Part of him hoped the King would still be angry with him, meaning that all hopes of becoming a Musketeer and making a new life in the regiment would be out of his hands. But would joining the regiment be so bad? To deal honourably for his King and country, to be a soldier, it was all he had ever wanted as a child; but he had learnt that his childish dreams were just that – dreams. Reality had turned out to be quite different.

Treville always seemed to know when his men had returned, and as soon as they dismounted, he hailed them from his usual spot upon the balcony, outside his office. Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look. Aramis had wondered about many things over the past few days, but he had not considered the events that had unfolded in any great detail, and the fact that so much had happened in such a short time. However, he now had to give his Captain a report, and there were elements of it that he was not sure Treville was going to like.

Athos followed the two Musketeers up the steps, his face unreadable but his shoulders straight and respectful. As they stood in front of the Captain's desk, Treville looked at each of the men in turn. Porthos looked the least anxious – he never led a report, but would happily add details, especially if it was one of Aramis' special stories – those which needed a little help from time to time. Treville had come to dread them, as it usually meant the two men had been up to no good and, though amusing, left him having to decide whether to praise them or put them on report. He looked at Aramis, trying to judge if this was going to be one of those times. The man stared over Treville's shoulder and the Captain's heart sank. He studied Athos; he was the unknown element of the trio and Treville was interested to know how he had fared. His face gave away nothing, but the Captain noticed how white the man's knuckles were and guessed that for some reason he was nervous.

In the future, he would look back on this occasion with amusement. Athos, standing in front of him, looking nervous. He would adopt this familiar stance on many more such days; angry, apologetic, unrepentant, even broken, but never again would he be nervous. Treville cleared his throat.

'You took me at my word, arriving at the last minute.' There was no anger or judgement in his voice, he was simply stating the facts. 'Where is he?' Aramis was the spokesman for the trio once more – another thing that would change in the future.

'Safely delivered to the Louvre, Captain.' Treville nodded. Then asked, 'What happened?'

There was the slightest pause, and Treville thought he saw all three of them take a deep breath.

'Well…' Aramis hesitated and raised his eyes to the ceiling, though Treville suspected it may have been to heaven. '…the journey was made rather hazardous by the weather, so our going was slower to begin with than we would have liked.' Treville nodded to show he appreciated this fact, then waited for the Musketeer to continue. 'We reached the inn safely and the night passed without any problems, though Athos felt sure we were under observation. However, we could find only slight traces, no sign of men or horses.' Treville looked intrigued. Glancing at Athos, he saw that the man was staring straight ahead, looking more as if he were about to face a firing squad than his Captain. Aramis continued:

'The next morning, we considered our plan. We decided on the path through the forest, as it had been protected from the weather and we could ride faster; it also allowed more room to mount a defence should we be attacked.' Treville listened to the strategy and once more glanced at the swordsman, from whom there was still no response. Aramis waited for Treville to give him his attention once more then continued with his report. 'We were nearly through the forest when we were attacked from behind. We managed to overcome them, but I was wounded. Nothing serious,' Aramis added with a grin. 'Turns out Athos can handle a needle and thread.' The Musketeer subconsciously touched the healing wound on his shoulder and grinned. Treville didn't look so delighted.

'Go on, then what?' he said.

Aramis shuffled slightly. 'It was growing dark, and I had lost a fair amount of blood. We were lucky and found a cave which gave us a good vantage spot, as well as shelter from the bitter weather. We spent the night there.' Now it was Porthos' turn to shuffle and Treville prepared himself for what was about to come. Athos had gone rather pale, – it might have been Treville's imagination, but he didn't think so.

'And?' Treville asked. If he was correct, it was about now that Porthos would join in the telling. If the matter had not been so serious, he would have smiled. Porthos spoke up:

'We decided to split up.' Treville raised a brow. He noticed Athos shift position for the first time – interesting.

'You split up? Why?' It was at this point that all three men tried to speak at once.

'I thought…' said Athos stoically.

'We discussed it…' managed Porthos.

'We decided...' was Aramis' effort. They all stopped and glanced at each other. It was Aramis who butted in before either of the others had the opportunity.

'I was injured. We were still a day away from the Château and we were now sure we were being followed; the raiders from the day before having just been a delaying tactic. Which nearly worked if …' he stopped again, before carrying on. '… if we had not heard them coming.' He smiled weakly. Treville simply raised both brows but said nothing. 'Athos elected to stay behind and act as decoy, whilst Porthos and I rode ahead, in the hope he would catch us up and we could make it to the Château before nightfall.' There was a brief bleakness to his expression, which told Treville he was definitely not hearing the complete tale.

'Did it work?' he interrupted. Again, all three spoke at once. Treville sighed. The party was at three that afternoon and at the rate they were going they would be here all night.

'Yes,' stated Athos.

'Almost,' Aramis added, in an attempt to put a positive spin on the story.

'No,' growled Porthos. 'Bastards caught 'im.' The other two men looked at the big man with something akin to surprise. Obviously, thought Treville, they had not intended to reveal that part. Porthos looked at both men and shrugged, 'What? It's true! We rode for a couple of hours, but 'e was nowhere in sight. We couldn't leave 'im Captain,' Porthos beseeched Treville. He knew he had been instrumental in making Aramis turn around and he was going to be the one to explain. Only now, he realised he was going to have to do some work to dig Athos out of a hole.

'The plan was working great, until they caught up with 'im. We suspect they knew the area better. He took out four or five of 'em, which helped us a great deal. When we arrived…'

'To rescue him?' Treville asked. The two Musketeers nodded. Athos again remained silent, but was now looking down, examining his boots in minute detail. 'And what state was he in when you two arrived?' Suddenly Athos spoke at last.

'I was fine. Slightly bruised but nothing more. They were after the invitation. They did not want Gaston to arrive in Paris.' Treville did not believe for a moment that Athos had got away with only a few bruises, as he had not failed to notice the cuts and grazes to the man's face. However, right now, he was more concerned with the news he had imparted.

'Did they get it?' he asked. Athos shook his head.

'Aramis had the letter. By the time they arrived...' He shrugged, looking at his boots once more.

Smiling, Aramis continued: 'By the time we arrived, Athos had it all in hand, and after a little assistance, we left – only the ring leader and one other man survived. We thought it prudent at that point to leave well alone and head to the Châteaux. We had to spend a further night in the cave, but eventually reached the Château the next day. Gaston made a show of surprise, but though it was a great performance we were not convinced.' Treville did not look taken aback at this insight.

'We stayed the night. He was not particularly enamoured with us, I suspect he knew we were watching his every move. We set off a little after dawn, the weather was appalling. Montmorency, and Viscount d'Angouilemme, travelled in the coach, and three other soldiers of Gaston's household rode with us. We made good time to Toury, but the weather worsened and there was a severe blizzard during the night.' Again, there was a pause, before Aramis went on:

'Someone attacked Athos in the yard, leaving him for dead.' Treville hissed, and eyed the young man, who was still avoiding his gaze. Aramis continued, now wanting to get this over with, as he realised the worst was still to come. 'Luckily, we found him and managed to get him inside to recover.'

Treville looked at Athos and said, his tone stern: 'And I suppose you were fine?' Athos shifted uncomfortably and nodded at the Captain, like an errant child. Treville scoffed and raised his eyes, seeking patience from the Almighty.

'The next morning, the weather dictated we stay and wait for the snow to thaw. However, Gaston was not prepared to wait, and ordered us to continue. We had only gone a few miles when the coach overturned and all three of the occupants were injured, although Gaston was hurt least of all. We saw to the injuries and two of the soldiers left for the nearest village to arrange for the repair of the coach. The rest of us continued on horseback to the Château Rambouillet, as arranged.

When we arrived, preparations were underway for a ball. Because the Duke and Duchess were in Paris, the Lady Julienne was acting as hostess, as she was apparently well-acquainted with all three of Gaston's contingent.'

'It was a good party,' Porthos interrupted, fearing the mood was taking a turn for the worse.

'Really?' Treville replied, sarcasm dripping from the solitary word. The two Musketeers eyed each other, and Aramis took a breath.

'We stayed outside Gaston's room, which we had deemed to be in an ideal situation for him to contact others. However, as he was not suitably attired to attend the ball, he sulked in his room the entire night. The other two gentlemen were too tired from their injuries to attend the ball. Unfortunately, during the early hours, Montmorency visited the library to find a book and was stabbed… murdered.' he added, in case there was any doubt.

Aramis breathed out, and Treville decided that he now had all of the details he considered necessary, though Lord only knew how much he had left out. The two Musketeers stood shoulder to shoulder, whilst Athos kept himself at a slight distance. All three looked as though, at this moment, they would rather be anywhere but where they were.

'You left here seven days ago,' said Treville. 'Aramis has been stabbed, Athos has been entertained by raiders – attacked and left for dead, Gaston and his party have been almost killed in a coaching accident, and one of the Duke's party has been murdered. Is there anything else I should know before I present myself before the King? This is the King, I would remind you, who is already furious that I allowed a recently punished criminal to accompany my men, to escort his brother to Paris, and there is nothing in your report which would stop him thinking that I have probably lost my mind.' He ran his hands through his hair and eyed the three dejected figures before him.

Deciding he had got as much as he was likely to from the three of them, he opted for a different tactic.

'Right, you two, go. You…' he indicated Aramis. 'can stay.' Porthos and Athos looked at Aramis, but the marksman merely smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Athos led the way and Porthos followed.

'Will he be alright?' Athos asked, concerned. When he had heard Aramis' version of the truth it had not sounded impressive. The swordsman did not want to think the Musketeer would be punished for his actions.

'He'll be fine, Treville will moan and complain. He might even shout. But we didn't really do nothin' wrong. Just had a lot of bad luck.' Athos gave the big man a side-long glance.

'Bad luck?' He looked slightly bemused at the Musketeer's take on events. It was too cold to sit at their bench, so they went to the refractory and found a table by the fire, neither man saying anything. Porthos bought back two bowls of hot soup and a loaf of bread and handed Athos a cup of wine. The man drank deeply but continued to watch the flames leaping in the grate, totally absorbed.

Back in the Captain's office, Treville had brought over a bottle and two glasses.

'Sit down and tell me the bits you left out.' He eyed the man before him and watched him struggle over how to begin. 'And I do mean all of it.' He looked at Aramis, his face stern, though it was clear he was not angry – not yet anyway. 'How did Athos fare?' Now this was one question Aramis had anticipated and prepared for. He smiled, and something inside Treville was greatly relieved. So, there was no bad news there at least.

'Very well indeed. Did you suspect he would not?' Treville looked thoughtful.

'I wondered how he would take direction, he can be… stubborn.' He eyed Aramis to see how the man would react. Aramis appeared serious, and then somewhat abashed. Sighing he finally nodded.

'I am glad you sent him away.' He eyed Treville who, now worried, was frowning back at his marksman.

'Many of the decisions I informed you of in my report were his. I was not trying to suggest they were my own, but it was difficult. He did not take over or seek to take control. On the contrary, he simply made suggestions, and as they were sensible or often insightful, we accepted them. He has a wonderfully strategic mind, and he is constantly alert to variables and possibilities. The man can function on hardly any sleep, and often no sleep at all.' Aramis paused and shook his head. Treville listened with interest, before encouraging the man to continue.

'And the idea to split up?' Treville asked. Aramis looked sad and shrugged.

'That was Athos. He discussed it with Porthos whilst I was asleep. Of course, Porthos said no, but when we awoke, he was gone.' Treville hissed, stood up, and walked slowly around the room.

'Go on,' he prompted.

'We argued, Porthos wanted to go after him. I… I decided to see if it could work. We rode for a couple of hours, but we were worried, he was greatly outnumbered. We decided to go back for him. When we arrived, he was holding off two men, playing with them really. He gained the final advantage, killing them both – with his left arm, his right having been dislocated.' This revelation made Treville pause in his pacing. Looking incredulous, he growled:

'Fine indeed. So, he is as good with either hand – interesting; though I would have wished to find out under different circumstances. Is he a loose cannon?' Treville asked, suddenly appearing deflated. He hoped he had not misjudged the man. He knew he had his demons, but if Athos had a death wish, he could not put his men at risk. Aramis smiled and shook his head.

'No. But he does put others before himself. He believed, and correctly to a point, that holding off the raiding party would allow Porthos and I to complete our mission. He may even have escaped on his own had we not arrived when we did. To him, we are Musketeers, and he is simply… well I am not wholly sure. He has fought bravely and carried himself with decorum. He handled Gaston all along – he knew what to say and when to say it. He was not intimidated by either his surroundings, or by the nobility.' He awaited Treville's response and noticed the Captain did not look surprised.

'You would ride with him again then?' the Captain asked quietly. Aramis smiled, and did not hesitate this time.

'Not only ride with him, I would happily follow him.' This perhaps did surprise Treville, but the Captain smiled too, and clapped the Musketeer on the back.

'Well, you had better send him up then. I think we need to talk.' Aramis nodded, not too sure that he wanted to know what about. He gave Treville a small nod and left the room. Treville poured himself another drink and considered all that he had heard.

Athos the swordsman did not surprise him, nor, in fact, Athos the strategist. Athos the leader – now that was interesting. He had seen the man mentoring the cadets in the garrison yard, and he knew the respect he had garnered in just a short while. Yes, he could see men following this man, even dying for him. The calm respect he showed others, the fact he considered every angle, every option gave Aramis and Porthos the confidence to abide by his direction. The day he had first seen Athos sparring in the yard with the young cadet, Treville knew he had found something special, but it was the fact that the man had put so little value on his own safety that concerned him most.

Milady appeared, as always, out of the shadows. She often wondered if that was how her life would continue. Would she spend the rest of her days lurking in those shadows, on the periphery of life? Would she never laugh in the sunshine, or feel the caress of a lover's hand in hers? She scoffed at her own weakness, for she already suspected the answer.

Despite her stealth, he was already aware of her presence and, as always, addressed her with the bluntness she had come to expect.

'What went wrong?' She took her time answering. Though there was only so far, she could push the man, she also liked to make the point that she was not totally without her pride.

'Musketeers are resourceful.' She awaited his response.

'And the stranger? Was he resourceful too?' She didn't like the way he phrased the question. Though her heart was beating too quickly, she feigned her usual disinterest before answering.

'He still lives, so I must assume so.' The Cardinal was before her in a second. He had the uncanny ability of standing in one place one minute and appearing at your side a second later. As he backed her against the edge of a table, she took a deep breath, the sharp carvings pressing deeply into her spine.

'I do not pay you to assume. I pay you to do a job, and you failed. I assume Gaston is on his way?' She nodded, eyes wide, not daring to shift her gaze from his. With the same swiftness of movement, he withdrew once more, and she raised her hand to her chest, attempting to calm her breathing.

'Where are they?' he growled. She answered quickly this time.

'I left them at Rambouillet.' She declined to add that one of the party had been removed. She was unknown at the Château, and so would never be suspected. No need to take credit. 'They would have set off at first light, arriving before midday.'

He nodded. It was as he suspected, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it now; he could only hope his plans would not be affected by whatever Gaston had arranged. He had managed to hide D'Coucy's death from Treville – the man had been found hanging in a barn when his men had arrived, whether by his own hand or by another's, he had no idea. And now it really didn't matter.

'You are on the guest list. Stay close to Gaston, I want to know his every move.' She nodded and left. She hated the First Minister, but it would not do to bite the hand that fed her – not yet anyway. She knew she would outstay her welcome one day, then she would have to look to her own needs, and the Cardinal's secrets may well come in handy.

Though the party was not due to start until three o'clock in the afternoon, already the palace was filled with music and chatter. There were friends who had not seen each other for many years meeting up again; nobles shaking their heads and discussing matters probably akin to treason; whilst others merely exchanged gossip and watched the nobility trying to outdo each other. Extravagance was certainly the order of the day. If those invited had rolled their eyes at the upcoming expense, they had risen to the challenge in the end. Velvets and the finest lace adorned man and woman; jewels sparkled on every finger, dripped from every female neck and elaborate coiffure, the sad juxtaposition between the Louvre and the streets outside lost on almost all of those present.

Louis was strutting up and down in his apartments, like a child on Christmas Eve.

'Is everything ready, Cardinal?' Richelieu certainly hoped so. The fact that there were too many unknowns surrounding the event was making him nervous. Still, he had Treville in charge of the King and Queen's safety and, after all, his men had spent several days with Gaston. If the traitorous Duke had plans in action, Richelieu could argue that the Musketeers should have realised. No, he was happy that if it all went wrong, he could blame Treville and his Musketeers; providing Louis was still around to demand an answer of course. He wondered if he should have made plans for that eventuality – still, no time now.

'Are you listening to me, Cardinal?' Louis demanded crossly. Richelieu snapped back to attention.

'Forgive me, Your Highness, I was just running through the events planned in my head. One cannot check too many times. Everything is running smoothly. There is just the cake to arrive, but we expect that shortly. It is being constructed in the kitchens as we speak.' Louis clapped his hands together in excitement.

'Marvellous! I wish to light the final candle so that my dear Anne may blow it out.' The King grinned, and even Richelieu smiled at the Kings' glee.

Earlier that morning, in the bowels of the Louvre, Rochefort lurked in a dimly-lit corner, awaiting the man he had sent for. He did not like to be kept waiting; he was expected for late morning refreshments by the ladies of the Spanish court, particularly Dona Maria, daughter of Olivares, the Spanish Prime minister. He smiled at his own success in that direction. Always a vain man, he harboured a rather over-inflated opinion of his own attraction to women. Indeed, he would have been shocked to discover how much he made his beloved Queen's skin crawl.

Footsteps sounded beneath the vaulted ceilings. The sun never reached this part of the Louvre and frost and snow still clung around the lower part of the walls. Here beneath the earth, it was frigid, and Rochefort stamped his booted feet upon the flagstones in an attempt to keep warm. The one torch he had lit to illuminate the transaction cast long shadows, as well as flickering spectres upon the dank walls. Shivering, he watched the figure approach.

'You are late!' spat Rochefort in annoyance. The man bowed low, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

'Apologies my Lord. The invitation you sent was late reaching my address and I dared not begin my journey without it.' Rochefort stared at him through narrow eyes, before turning abruptly and fetching a small, cloth-wrapped object.

'This is all you need. It is ready to be used and you do not need to do anything. The cake will be lit at five o'clock. All eyes will be upon the King and Queen and all you have to do is exactly as we discussed. I will be situated just inside the door on the left-hand side. Remember, it is all part of the charade for the Queen's birthday.' The man still looked unconvinced, but when Rochefort handed over the heavy purse of coins, the man shrugged and smiled.

'Who am I, as your humble servant, to question such japes? I will do as you have asked, and at the appointed hour.' Once more he bowed, then walked back into the gloom from where he had come.

Rochefort watched the figure disappear before blowing out the torch. With a flick of his head and a deep breath, he strode out of the catacombs and into the daylight once more.

Aramis walked into the refractory to find his friends. Porthos looked up and Athos followed the big man's gaze.

'Well?' Porthos asked, anxiously. Aramis shrugged and smiled, and turning to Athos he said:

'He would like to speak with you now.' Athos merely nodded, as if he had been waiting for such an invitation.

'He's not in trouble, is he?' Porthos looked worried, ready to go back upstairs and say his piece if it were necessary. Athos stood and, as he did so, placed his hand upon the big Musketeer's shoulder.

'It is alright, my friend. We have things to discuss, Treville and I.' Athos gave a wan smile, then walked out into the courtyard and mounted the stairs leading to the Captain's office. He paused outside the door and knocked firmly.

'Come,' the Captain's voice answered. He had been waiting ever since Aramis had left the room, struggling with the best way to deal with the man, and he still did not know whether to complain, shout, chastise or praise him, for his behaviour. He decided to hear what parts of the story Athos would fill in, the parts Aramis had obviously omitted.

Athos entered. His face showed no indication of his emotional state, but Treville was becoming used to that. The Captain stood behind his desk and waved toward the chair where he wished Athos to sit. Reaching into a cupboard, he pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He sat down, sweeping aside the remnants of the wine he had shared with Aramis. Athos took all of this in – so, he was to be given brandy, whilst Aramis had shared wine. Why the change of tactics? Was the discussion to be so unsettling? Athos was still stood up. He was not one to sit comfortably in such a situation, especially not holding such a difficult conversation as this one would prove to be. Treville looked up at the man standing to attention before him and let out a sigh of exasperation.

'I said sit, and that is an order.' Shuffling uncomfortably, Athos nodded and seated himself upon the edge of the chair. If one could sit to attention, then that was what this man was doing. Deciding this was the best he would get, Treville set about his enquiries.

'Do you wish to tell me what really happened?' Treville asked. Athos was taken by surprise. He had not expected so honest an approach, and he did not know how to reply. There was so much Aramis had skimmed over or avoided altogether, and he was not sure how much Treville suspected, but he was not going to elaborate on any of it and make Aramis look like a liar. So Treville's next words gave him a modicum of comfort.

'I have worked with Aramis for several years. I have no doubt the man has not lied to me. In fact, I am sure he has told me all that is salient to the mission. However, now I would like you to tell me why he believed he had to curtail some of details for my benefit. He will not suffer in my estimation.' But you might, were the words Athos heard inside his head, but still he could not find the words to answer Treville's request. The Captain sighed yet again and ran his hands through his hair. Was this how it would always be? Would he always have to choose his words with this man? It was like dealing with a particularly temperamental stallion – one wrong move and the horse would bolt. He poured Athos a generous brandy, and then one for himself. Taking a sip, he finally spoke.

'Very well, let us go about this in a different way. I am ordering you to give me the details of your capture.' Athos blinked and reached for his glass. Sipping the liquid, he felt the warming amber trail down his throat – it was fine brandy. Nodding, he began his tale.

When he had finished, leaving nothing out, Treville sat and pondered over what he had heard. So concise and well delivered was the report that he doubted the man had left out any detail. He envisaged such succinct accounts of missions in the future and smiled to himself in grateful anticipation – Aramis could sometimes be longwinded, if believable at all.

'So, that was your plan from the beginning? To let yourself be taken, not to lead them astray as you discussed with Porthos?' Athos thought for a moment.

'Perhaps not at the beginning. However, after careful consideration I believed I stood a better chance as a prisoner than as their prey.' Treville nodded.

'Did you consider how the other two men would feel, when they awoke and found you gone? You were supposed to be watching their backs.' Athos bristled at this admonishment.

'I was. I only went into the forest below. I still had their backs.' He held Treville's gaze and the Captain knew he meant every word he said. No, he was sure that this man would never lie to him; even if it were to his own detriment.

'Even so,' Treville added, 'once again you put yourself in harm's way. Do you hold your own life in so little regard? I need to ask, for a Musketeer with a death wish has no place in this garrison.' Athos bowed his head. So, he was not immune to the feelings of the two Musketeers – that, at least, was progress. Athos looked up at this, he had not expected to still be under consideration. Treville smiled.

'Oh, do not think I am not angry. But Aramis and Porthos have both pulled some equally ridiculous stunts over the years. I am not naive enough to fail to appreciate ingenuity, but recklessness is something else. Do you understand?' Athos nodded before he answered.

'Yes, Captain, and thank you.' He hesitated, and Treville wondered what was about to come next. Athos took a deep breath. 'It is not that I am not honoured that you still think me worthy of consideration. However, my dealings with Gaston… may not be conducive to my elevation in the King's regard.' He lowered his gaze once more, leaving Treville to deliberate on how quickly the man could alter his demeanour. He'd showed no arrogance or irritation at Treville's rebuke; in fact, he had listened with humiliation and shame whilst the Captain had pointed out his selfishness. At other times, he showed the confidence and eloquence of a man twice his age; and then there was his ability with a sword. Treville sighed once more; it seemed this man was too complex for him to understand just yet – in fact he suspected he may never understand him fully. Athos would only reveal just what he needed to, the rest was for him to keep locked within. Treville looked up suddenly.

'You didn't hit him?' Athos actually smiled. It was such a rare occurrence that it surprised Treville how young the man looked when he did so. With just the faintest twitch of the lips remaining, Athos shook his head.

'No, I did not. Though it was tempting.' Treville let out a loud guffaw and poured them both another brandy.

'I can quite believe it.' He grew serious once more. 'What do you believe is afoot?' Athos drank from the glass, and Treville noted how much he had relaxed, leaning back on his chair whilst he considered the question.

'I believe Gaston was behind the idea of the Queen's party from the beginning. Despite the performance he gave, he was not surprised by the invitation. I suspect, however, that he was also irritated, and I don't believe he considered the possibility of the missive arriving so late. Whatever he had planned, I am sure it needed him to be in Paris much earlier. Perhaps a show of strength, even a small force. Then the poor weather played its part, and any plans he might have had were almost certainly abandoned at that point. Whatever he may have in place now, it will be last minute and rapidly put together which, while making it harder to anticipate, will be perhaps easier to contain. Gaston should be watched, at all times.' Treville, almost gaped. Once more, here was the strategist, the confident man, the man who sounded like a hardened soldier. Everything Athos had surmised made perfect sense. Treville nodded.

'He is, do not worry. But there is more.' He went on to inform Athos of the dealings of D'Coucy. 'I, too, have my sources. I have discovered D'Coucy has a son, the eldest. He likes to gamble, but unfortunately, he is not lucky and has amassed a huge amount of debt. Last week, all of his debts were cleared, and the man took a passage to England. It would seem you are correct. The Cardinal tells me D'Coucy did not make it back to his estates, I doubt he ever will. No loose ends.' Athos took all of this in.

'What do you plan to do now?' he asked the Captain. Treville stood and drained his glass.

'I need you all to be present at the party.' Athos frowned. 'Don't worry, you can mingle with the other guests, you won't be wearing a uniform so you will have the advantage over my men.' He glanced over the man's clothing and frowned. 'I don't suppose…' His words trailed off, as Athos followed the Captain's gaze. He thought back to the trunk. It seemed another visit would be necessary.

'I will manage,' Athos stated. Treville nodded, and the two men continued to discuss how best to proceed.

As Athos left the room, the Captain watched the door close and smiled. That was a man he wanted as a Musketeer – his sharp mind was a joy to work with. They had thrown ideas back and forth and the outcome, though not perfect, was the best they could have hoped for. This man would prove to be a great leader. Treville remembered Aramis' remarks; the man already had it seemed.

Having been gone some time, Athos re-joined the two impatient Musketeers in the refractory. He smiled when he saw the bottle of wine upon the table. Then he remembered the two generous glasses of brandy, and he stilled his hand, surprised at his will power, but he needed a clear head. The idea of milling with nobility made him feel physically sick. Would anyone still recognise him? His father had rarely attended court, that was one thing they had in common, a dislike for pomp and court gossip. But there had been many visitors to the estate. Dressed as he was, no one would give him a second glance, but dressed otherwise…

Aramis could contain himself no longer. 'What has happened? Was he furious?' Athos stopped to consider the question.

'No, we discussed my actions and he pointed out my errors.' Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look. Treville quietly pointing out Athos's errors? They both burst out laughing. Athos, king of the understatement. Even the man himself allowed a small quirk of his lips. Then he became serious once more, laying out their plans, and Porthos laughed some more.

'So, we 'ave to go to work, whilst you get to swan around all dressed up with the nobs.' Athos looked extremely uncomfortable, and Aramis was beginning to suspect why. He smiled and nudged Porthos' ribs.

'There is one problem with you mixing with the nobility, my friend.' Athos looked at him, raising a brow in expectation. 'You are filthy, your hair and beard too long and… well several days on horseback…' Aramis rolled his eyes and screwed up his nose. Athos snorted.

'I will see to it.' He placed his hat on his head and turned to leave. 'I have things to attend to. I shall be prepared by the time you are ready to leave the garrison.' With that, he walked out of the room, leaving Aramis and Porthos in eager anticipation. A courtly Athos – now that was a sight they were looking forward to.